


None Of That Manic Pixie Dream Boat Nonsense, Please

by Ritzy_bird



Series: JeanMarco Month 2017 [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Only rated T for swearing, Pre-Established Attempts to Flrit, Skepticism, Suspected Magic Use, Unreliable Narrator, c:, there's a dog in it if that entices you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ritzy_bird/pseuds/Ritzy_bird
Summary: Marco may have seemed like a somewhat mystical, graceful, perfect being walking among them, but Jean wasn't having any of it.[JeanMarco Month 2017 - Prompt: Everyday Magic/Light]





	None Of That Manic Pixie Dream Boat Nonsense, Please

**Author's Note:**

> If there is one thing I love but there isn't enough of in the JM fandom, it's Marco being the thirsty one.
> 
> Thanks again to my beta dat_heichou for reading through this for me!

Magic, everyone somewhat believed in, even Jean did just a little bit. Perfection, however, that was impossible. The rumors were all there, about how the newest arrival in town was a perfect, magical, beautiful creature just short of godliness.

It was all bullshit. Jean knew that people exaggerated, that it was mostly a joke. That rarely did they ever have new residents in such an otherwise boringly ordinary small town, especially one who was a _veterinarian_ of all things. And with someone so close to perfection just moving on in, it _had_ to be the talk of the town.

Jean didn't listen to a lick of it, no, not until he'd met the man himself. No then, then Jean _swore_ on the rumors' fallacy. 

Marco was an attractive man, maybe. Since their first meeting Jean never dared get close enough to find out just _how_ good looking he truly was, but whatever. He got the idea.

Perhaps a little too much, he'd soon realized. Conveniently, whenever he and Marco were in the same place, Jean's attention would go to him and somehow, some way, Marco was already looking at him. Every time. _Always_.

And it was still bullshit.

Jean detested the thought of him! Avoided him as best he could, annoyed by the way just looking at him made his skin itch. His brown eyes were kinda soft and sweet, okay, sure, but there was always something else in there that Jean didn't like. Something intense, like he was looking right into Jean, like he knew something. But _not_ perfect.

At first, Jean wrote it off as nothing more than a coincidence. Of course he's going to focus on the new person in town more than anyone else when he looks over his shoulder. 

The more it happened, he thought; Maybe the reason he kept catching Marco's attention was because with nothing left to do, people will gossip about just about anything. He wasn't exactly keeping it a huge secret that he thought Marco was just a whole load of smoke and mirrors and nonsense.

It had to just be one of those 6th sense things, Jean had reasoned, because of course people don't normally look at him. Everyone already knows each other, why would there be any need? Marco was just being nosy.

Or he just thought Jean was cute...?

It wasn't the smallest town in the world, but there were only so many places you could get something to eat, or have a good time, or find work. He thanked whomever above every day that they weren't in the same business, though it didn't make their paths cross much less than they already did.

Every one of his neighbor's suddenly had sick pets, sick farm animals, sick _cellar rats_ to talk with Marco about; Anything was worthy of Marco's time it seemed, and everything from a scratch to organ failure miraculously was fixed, one way or the other. Or so Jean had been told. 

_Magic_ , it was more obvious then. Putting skills like that to work on animals would cause far less of a ruckus, avoiding any unwanted attention. But a few litters of kittens and some horses realizing they can run again didn't mean anything- Certainly not that he was perfect.

Marco's dog even painted a deceivingly flawless image of him; It was old, slow, and probably deaf. Good for nothing other than company, and so of course, who wouldn't be a saint for walking it any and everywhere, taking such good care of it?

His dog may have been quiet as the dead, but Marco? It was impossible not to hear him. He would laugh, inconsistent and loud, enough so to get Jean's attention every time without fail. How could he forget a noise like that, when it was always followed by Jean turning his gaze only for the noise to quiet down and for his eyes to find Marco's.

Distance could only do so much good, but it kept Jean from having to hear him speak. When they'd initially had their first true introductions, Jean wanted to laugh at Marco's voice, because it really wasn't anything special like everyone would try to pretend it was. It wasn't deeply seductive and buttery. It was just a voice. Soft, and new-neighbor friendly. Not perfection.

Successfully though, he'd kept that laugh inside of him from getting out each and every time the need arose. From that point on Jean began to stiffen his demeanor whenever Marco was around, as best he could anyway. There was an inner need to almost defend himself, on guard just in case Marco decided to... smile or something, in the same space as him.

That damned _smile_ of Marco's, it was, it was so stupid. It was almost juvenile in how wide and sickeningly joyful it could get! Not that Jean stared at Marco for long when they saw each other just, it was hard to miss. Hard to deny the genuineness of it, as much as it made Jean's face burn. 

What could any man find to be so damn enjoyable here in the middle of nowhere? The nature? The scenery? The quirky little accents everyone had? It was something only old people would find so much pleasure in to even move out here for! Nothing was here to make a person that happy, there was no need for someone with his skills, he had no family here, _nothing_ other than that dog to settle down with. No wife... no husband. Marco was, without a doubt, beyond strange.

Jean was so wrapped up in this determination to deny any claims that Marco was the perfect man, that he didn't realize how people hadn't really mentioned it after the first couple months or so of Marco's arrival. 

But no no, Jean had to prove that he wasn't falling for whatever tricks Marco was pulling, whatever past he'd had to rouse whispers and rumors of how perfectly beautiful, well educated, and skilled he was.

It all brought them to today. Just a regular day to get the dead leaves out of the yard, nothing special. Nothing to convince him to do anything out of the ordinary, not until he looked up and... there he was. 

Marco was across the road, his dog's leash in hand, having a conversation with a few neighbors... and _not_ looking at Jean. 

He tensed, not on instinct, but on what he'd trained himself to do at the sight of Marco. 

Soon he relaxed, amazed at this rare, magical sight. Jean had the moment to breathe, to think, to really _look_ at Marco without worrying why Marco was already looking at _him_. This had really **never** happened before? The realization was startling all over again for Jean, threatening to sour the moment.

Just like that, Marco stopped talking and turned his head, eyes locking with Jean's. There was no shock on his face like Jean had expected, as if this was a mistake, a slip up, something Marco hadn't intended to happen. But there wasn't even the slightest trace of it. 

Instead, his face changed in what must've been him simply recognizing Jean; A different, gentler kind of smile spreading on his face as he stared over in silence. His dog didn't move a muscle, and the neighbors he was with continued to talk on with each other as if Marco were still paying attention-- Or like he wasn't there at all.

There was no looking away and returning to his task with a begrudged scowl, no, not this time. Now Jean was already too involved, too busy studying the man he was too busy swearing by the imperfections of to actually pinpoint a single one of them out. One besides that horrific hairstyle, that is.

Marco's gaze wasn't accusing, and wanted for nothing. It was soft, it was intense, warm with no reason to be; It was almost as if it were all muddled together and hiding under what should have, _could have_ , been a blank stare with nothing to say. Nothing other than eyes in Marco's skull, sunlight that could only be abundant in a season like this, shining down into Marco's eyes and glamouring a meaningless glance to look like something more. 

Sunlight was nothing special, and neither was Marco, but the two of them together was something Jean never let himself see for very long before now. It highlighted the revelation that Marco's black hair was actually a deep, dark brown. It made his overabundance of freckles almost _sparkle_ for fuck's sake, with the way the branches above waved back and forth, taking and giving specks and spots of light at the will of the wind. 

_Bullshit_.

He could march over there right now and take a knife to Marco's face, and hell, for all anyone knew, he might just start bleeding pure gold under that skin of his. Marco could be a magic spinning demon here to seduce and torture them all, and it still wouldn't matter. 

Jean swallowed hard, trying to make himself look uninviting and harsh again. He expected one of Marco's famous giggles, the ones that cracked at the end. Or one of his teeth-bearing, far-too-wide grins that expressed more joy than was entirely necessary for any one person in a boring place like this. Or his elongated waves that only got the attention of just about everyone within a mile, with the length of his arms and the haste he took when throwing one into the air just for _one_ person.

Anticipation may have killed Jean on any other day, but not this one. His face burned as he realized that Marco was waiting for him to make a move; still as ever, only blinking occasionally. Though, Jean didn't look away. Too enveloped by the near-unreadable, gorgeous face staring back at him. 

Marco's smile twitched a bit wider, but he finally turned away, back to the others he was with to finish whatever conversation it was that Jean had inadvertently interrupted. 

Still not looking away, Jean grimaced. Marco was a pretty man with a nifty job and a little mystery to his name, but that was **all** he was! Thinking of it made him notice his blushing, and he just stared on with that same feeling of determination. 

Marco may not have been perfect, but... Jean was smitten. Marco **wasn't** perfect, yet Jean barely even knew why. And he had to know; To find out as soon as possible, before he went any crazier with this flighty infatuation that only seemed to tease him any time Marco was around.

Jean turned his back to them, looking to the ground at all the leaves he'd yet to clean up. He sighed and got back to work, not thinking or knowing that later he just might feel the need to turn around again, and maybe he'd actually say something this time.

**Author's Note:**

> I also love the idea that Jean is so turned on by someone he'll reason any way he can against it. Cute guy in town? Only reasonable explanation is that he's using magic to make himself look good to everyone. Only way. 
> 
> I took both prompts kinda literally I think? Wasn't intentional but hey, trying to come up with stories to fit these prompts was a nightmare. 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING! Please tell me your thoughts on it, either in a comment or maybe directed at my tumblr, crackerjacknotanon?


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